


Younger Days

by SilverAmoebasquid



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: HE IS GOOD AND PURE AND I ADORE HIM WITH ALL MY SOUL, IM SO EXCITED FOR SEASON3, PLEASE EVERYBODY LOVE SHIRABU KENJIROU, Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverAmoebasquid/pseuds/SilverAmoebasquid
Summary: "Peace is a journey of a thousand miles and it must be taken one step at a time."-Lyndon B Johnson
Shirabu Kenjirou, setter for Shiratorizawa Academy. Not everything was clear along the way but in the end, the journey was worth it.





	

“This is definitely going to be the most exciting match this season!!” someone said enthusiastically.

“Whoever wins this game is gonna win the whole tournament, you can tell! They’re both so intense!”

Shirabu couldn’t look away from the court for an instant, even when someone on his team knocked into him while moving seats, jostling him slightly. His eyes tracked the ball as it seemed to soar from one side of the court to the other. Every hit was powerful, he wasn’t sure if his team would’ve been able to combat either of them had they made it far enough into the junior high preliminaries to meet.

“Who are you rooting for, Kawatabi?”

“Kitagawa Daiichi!” Tabi said from where the third year stood, a short distance away from Shirabu, leaning against the railing. “Their style is a bit closer to ours, and they’re all a bit short in comparison so we should root for them because they’re the underdogs!”

Another of Shirabu’s teammates, Kane, another third year wing spiker, glanced over at him, noting his inability to blink or take his eyes off the court.

“Who do you hope will win, Kenjirou?”

Shirabu didn’t respond at first, watching intently as the ball was received, set, spiked. Cheers echoed through the crowd as Shirabu released his breath softly, feeling the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. He added his voice softly to the chants.

“Shiratorizawa.”

 

The third-year spiker was still softly chuckling to himself hours later.

Shirabu glared at the ground and tried to take off in the opposite direction as soon as they got back to school, but his senpai tugged the strap of his backpack playfully, pulling him back to the crowd of kids.

“Everybody look out for Shiratorizawa’s next setter!” Kane laughed.

“Let him lead the way!” Tabi grinned. “If he’s gonna be up there with the royalty, he better get used to walking ahead of the rest of us commoners!”

Shirabu felt hands on his shoulders and he was pushed to stand a pace in front of the rest of the team. His cheeks heated up, but he didn’t look behind him as he took a strong step forward back toward the school. He was going to show them all what he was made of. They thought he was a joke, but he’d show them that he was worthy to toss to Ushijima Wakatoshi.

 

A pit had formed in Shirabu’s stomach as he stood lined up in the gym with other students on the volleyball team. A few meters away, there was another line. The third years, about to depart for high school, bowed respectfully and said their goodbyes to to the team.

Shirabu bit his lip. This year had been a great one. He was one of only two second years to have a spot as a regular on the team. Shirabu had developed his friendships around volleyball, as having good relationships with the members of one’s team was proven to strengthen attacks and general playing power, therefore, most of Shirabu’s friends were third years, Kane and Tabi in particular. But it wasn’t the fact that they were graduating that had Shirabu down. He didn’t always understand why people got so upset over things they knew would eventually come like graduation. What saddened Shirabu considerably was that he’d spent much of the last two weeks alone.

Ever since the tournament, when the others had been hanging out together when there wasn’t practice and they had finished their homework, Shirabu sat in front of a computer, watching and rewatching the two recorded matches he could find on the internet of Shiratorizawa’s Junior High volleyball club. He took notes on Ushijima’s technique and researched techniques on how setting to left-handed players would be different. He watched videos of star ace players and their respective setters in the dim lighting of the computer lab until his eyes were rimmed with red and he fell asleep with his chin resting on his hand. Kane had come in to check on him on two different occasions and found him passed out the first time, still staring at the screen well past midnight the second time.

“You’re serious about this?” Kane sighed, picking up Shirabu’s bookbag and powering down the computer while Shirabu unsteadily got to his feet.

“I am, Kane-yan. I want to go to Shiratorizawa Academy and toss to Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

Kane shrugged tiredly and walked with Shirabu back to the dorm rooms, passing the younger’s book bag back to him once they’d reached his door.

“Just try to take care of yourself and focus on school and the team instead of obsessing over Ushijima-san.” Kane walked away towards his own room and Shirabu watched his back grow faint in the late night darkness of the hallway.

Shirabu exhaled tiredly and tried to enter his room as quietly as possible. The door hinge squeaked despite his caution and his roommate stirred and groaned in annoyance.

“Sorry,” Shirabu whispered.

“If you’re gonna stay out so late, you might as well just not come back here,” came an annoyed grunt from the other bed.

Shirabu flopped down on his own mattress, not bothering to change clothes before immediately falling asleep.

**\-----**

Shortly after the end of the school year, Shirabu had ended his intense research stage. He had gathered a plethora of information and his mind spun as his hands ached to put it into practice. He’d applied for a sports scholarship to Shiratorizawa, knowing the only way he’d be able to place himself among the giants was to show off his skills.

The only other second year on the team that past year was an extroverted, motivated, tall middle blocker who was chosen as the captain for the next year, proudly displaying the number one on his jersey while Shirabu donned the number two. They didn’t necessarily get along with each other, but Shirabu made a point to be at least civilized with him during practice.

Shirabu quickly discovered that one of their first years was left handed.

“Hi,” Shirabu approached the new student enthusiastically after practice. “Any interest in spiking some tosses?”

The first year raised an eyebrow and took a step back. “I-I’m a libero... I don’t—”

“But do you know how to spike?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so, but—”

“Please? Just for a bit?”

“Okay...”

 

Three hours had passed since the end of practice and Shirabu’s frustration had been steadily increasing the entire time. While it might’ve seemed simple enough to just imagine the court mirrored, trying to toss to a lefty brought some unexpected challenges. Though one of the problems was probably that he was trying to toss to a libero.

“S-Shirabu-san, I don’t see the point in this,” the first year said timidly after yet another failed attempt.

“One more!” Shirabu barked, clutching a ball tightly in his hands.

The door to the gym suddenly opened and the captain peered in. “What are you guys doing here so late?” he asked.

The first year jogged to the door, taking his chance to escape.

The captain gave Shirabu a quick sideways glance before stepping back into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

 

Shortly before the first tournament of the year, Shirabu found a new gold mine. A video of Shiratorizawa Academy’s high school team’s first tournament game had been posted online. Shirabu watched with wide eyes and a sinking feeling as he realized what he would have to do. In order to most effectively use Ushijima, the setter would give a lot of simple, high tosses. He would have to fade to the background completely while letting Ushijima’s full power show.

There was no time to waste. Shirabu immediately started changing the style of his tosses during practice. Few of the players were able to perform with this new style as well as Shirabu had been hoping and they lost out of their tournament much sooner than the previous year. A general sense of unease had spread throughout the club as Shirabu kept trying to shift into a new style and the others struggled to adapt.

The rising tension finally snapped in the middle of a practice match against some team Shirabu didn’t know or care about. Shirabu focused intently on making his toss high and slow. His wing spiker’s hand connected with the ball, but not enough power was sent through and it was easily blocked falling back onto their side of the net.

Shirabu clenched his fists at his side, inwardly annoyed that none of his teammates were capable of spiking with the kind of power he wanted them to with his tosses. There was a hand on his back, pushing him slightly toward the sideline. Shirabu looked up, their second year reserve setter was holding up the number 2 card. Shirabu had never wished there was a different number on his jersey more than at that moment.

An overly enthusiastic wing spiker from the other team with his hair in a dumb-looking dyed blond undercut laughed. “Ooooh! Bye, setter!”

He switched out with the younger setter and stood in front of his coach expectantly.

The older man sighed as the game resumed itself. “Shirabu-kun, I understand what you’re trying to do. I think it’s great that you’re shooting for such a high goal. Shiratorizawa is a very good school for volleyball among other things and with your dedication, I think you could do well there. But what you’re doing out there right now is not what this team needs. I fully support your goals, but my priority is this team’s success. You need to make a choice, you can go back to the way you played before, or I’m going to switch you out permanently.”

Shirabu’s mouth went dry. He licked his lips before attempting to speak again.

His coach held up a hand. “You don’t need to decide right now, I’ve already decided to let you sit out the rest of this match, but just think about it for a bit here. You can sit.”

Shirabu numbly sat down on the bench near his coach, watching the ball get passed back and forth without actively paying attention. He couldn’t lose his spot as a regular, but every minute he would spend practicing with his team, was a minute he would grow further away from Shiratorizawa.

Since the setter switch, they’d closed the point gap considerably and won the game. The second year setter was the center of attention as the others clapped him on the back and congratulated him on resurrecting the game for them.

“Coach,” Shirabu said quietly.

The middle aged man looked at his student inquiringly.

“I’m sorry, but I have to focus on getting to Shiratorizawa.”

 

There was nothing more heartbreaking than watching his team improve from the sidelines, especially knowing that he could’ve had a chance to be out there with them, but he’d deliberately turned the offer away. Instead, Shirabu practiced on his own, tossing theoretical trajectories at the wall and setting up water bottles along the court when it was deserted at night. If, on the off chance, someone was willing to practice with him, he could go for hours, only stopping when the other person gave up. Progress was being made frustratingly slow, but Shirabu kept his hopes high that by the time he got to Shiratorizawa, he’d be ready and perfectly equipped to start working with Ushijima.

When the letter came for him, Shirabu almost ripped it open in anticipation, but he forced himself to calmly walk back to his dorm room before he carefully peeled the envelope open.

He skimmed over the introduction, the obligatory “thank you for your interest in our program”. He thought his heart had stopped beating when he got to the meat of the letter.

“We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen to receive a sports scholarship. There are many who apply for this every year and a very limited number of scholarships can be given out. Based on careful analysis of your personal history in volleyball and the most recent tournament, we determined that there are other candidates more well-suited for this opportunity. On the behalf of the Shiratorizawa sports association, we wish you luck in your future endeavors.”

The nice paper fluttered to the ground. Shirabu’s hands shook and he stared at them. His hands never shook, it was one of the things he prided himself on. Even during the most intense matches, his hands remained steady and capable of the most precise tosses. They were far from still now. Shirabu blinked, willing them to stop trembling. Finally he clasped them together, only lessening their movement slightly. He blinked rapidly at the ceiling, feeling the insistent press of tears behind his eyes.

His roommate looked up from where he was reading on his bed. “Does this mean, you’re going to come back and set for us again? The new guy is good, but not as good as you used to be.”

Shirabu fled the room and headed for the library, swiping a hand across his eyes once, refusing to get emotional. He logged onto a computer and searched the internet for information on Shiratorizawa. The test scores one had to achieve to even be considered for acceptance were astronomically high.

Shirabu wanted to give up. There would be nothing easier than to accept his loss and go back to giving his team his full commitment then go to his local high school. Maybe someday he’d meet Shiratorizawa on the other side of the net.

He slapped both his hands on the sides of his face loudly. Several other students and teachers looked up. Savoring the stinging pain in his cheeks, Shirabu looked back down at his hands. While red and stinging, they had stopped shaking.

Shirabu logged off the computer and strode confidently out of the library, ignoring the looks he was still getting.

 

For the next five months Shirabu continued to diligently attend volleyball practices, taking every opportunity to enhance his simplistic tossing style. In every scrap of his free time, he studied. He read over his notes from class, applying the principles to his assigned homework. He further researched the concepts discussed in all his classes, watching videos, reading articles, and finding other practice to do. His grades, while already some of the highest in his class, skyrocketed until he was answering every question on every test perfectly in a very short amount of time. There was some suspicion at first among his teachers because it seemed like he somehow knew exactly what would be on the tests before they were given. After talking to Shirabu about his study habits, their unease quickly turned into pride that he had become so committed.

The volleyball team lost out of the second tournament of the year fairly quickly again and there were a few murmurs about being able to have gone further if Shirabu was still their setter. Shirabu ignored them for his studies, finally feeling prepared in the early spring to take the placement test and apply to Shiratorizawa once again.

The results for this came back much quicker and this time Shirabu couldn’t make himself wait until he got back to his room before opening the letter.

“Your test scores the past few years have been above average and your placement test was very impressive. We graciously extend our invitation to you to attend Shiratorizawa Academy next year.”

Shirabu forced himself to walk slowly back to his room with dignity, despite wanting to run and jump and yell and sing. His roommate was somewhere else, so Shirabu allowed himself to flop onto his bed, close his eyes, and smile at the ceiling for a few minutes. His mind was whirling at a hundred miles an hour. He was in. Two months from now he would be walking through the doors at Shiratorizawa Academy for the new school year. He’d spent a lot of time trying to perfect his techniques in volleyball as well and without a doubt they’d realize they were wrong to decline him a sports scholarship the first time his feet hit the court.

**\-----**

The first thing Shirabu noticed stepping into the volleyball gym at Shiratorizawa was how tall everyone was. The second and third year students were distinguishable by how muscular they clearly were underneath their practice clothes. The first years were still visibly lanky for the most part and past the false bravado, Shirabu noted that many of them looked slightly intimidated.

One of the coaches beckoned all the first years to him and Shirabu scampered to obey along with the others of his class. Shirabu knew he had to talk to one of the coaches specifically as soon as possible. Students who had gotten into the program on a sports scholarship were automatically applied and accepted into the volleyball club. He had his application filled out, but he needed to turn it in and he doubted that there would be many others joining the club who weren’t here on a sports scholarship.

Shirabu took a step forward out of the group of students and handed his club application to the infamous coach Washijou who Shirabu had learned about through his extensive research on Shiratorizawa.

Washijou didn’t uncross his arms, just looked at the sheet of paper, then back at Shirabu.

Shirabu leaned forward, moving the paper a few centimeters closer to the coach.

“How tall are you?” Washijou asked.

“171.3cm.” Shirabu said. The next shortest first year was at least 173 and Shirabu was pretty sure he was a libero anyway.

“What middle school did you come from?” Washijou remained expressionless.

“Toyokuro middle. But—”

“Position.”

“Setter, but—”

“What’s your name?”

“Sir, all of this is on my application. That’s the whole point of applications.”

“Your name.” Washijou’s eyes bored through Shirabu’s skull.

“Shirabu Kenjirou.”

“Why are you here?”

“Pardon?”

“We turned down your application for the sports scholarship. Why are you here.”

“I want to play strong volleyball.”

Washijou raised an eyebrow. “At your skill level?”

“With all due respect sir, I’ve been changing my playing style to better fit your ace. What you would’ve seen at the tournament last year is nothing like how I am now.”

“Our ace?”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

The crowd of students in the gym seemed to instantly dissipate and Shirabu glanced behind him and locked eyes with the tower of muscles and intimidation that was Ushijima Wakatoshi.

The earth stopped spinning for a full minute of pure silence other than the slamming of Shirabu’s heart against his ribcage.

“Well, we usually play a few practice matches to get a feel for the new players’ skills. Why don’t we see how you do tossing to Ushijima, Shirabu-kun.”

The rest of the players were split into teams that mixed upper and underclassmen. Shirabu stood on one court, hesitantly stealing glances at Ushijima, a short distance away from him.

The match started and a tall, red-haired middle blocker on the other side of the net kept calling out teasing remarks to Ushijima. The ace seemed to be enjoying himself, being in his element and smiling slightly at his friend’s banter.

Shirabu was churning with excitement. He didn’t want to kill the casual, fun mood that had settled over the entire gym. Then the moment came for him to show off what he’d been working so hard for. The ball hit his hands perfectly. Ushijima was next to him, ready to run up to the net and spike the perfect toss straight to the floor on the other side. The ball flew off of Shirabu’s hands just like he had practiced. Then sailed right out of Ushijima’s reach, bouncing on the floor anticlimactically as Ushijima landed gracefully, shooting Shirabu a vaguely puzzled look.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!!” Shirabu said loudly, shutting his eyes.

“Tossing to someone left-handed can be different at first,” Ushijima said.

Shirabu wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be consoling but it hadn’t worked. “I practiced this. I _practiced_. For _this_.” When Shirabu opened his eyes, he saw his hands trembling.

“Lower and closer will be fine next time,” Ushijima said quickly as the game resumed.  
The shake in Shirabu’s hands caused the next ball to spin awkwardly and Ushijima barely managed to hit it at all, though he did manage. But there wasn’t near the overwhelming power that Shirabu had been dreaming about for two years. The other team easily received it.

“Sorry!” Shirabu yelled, already running to his stance to counter the other team’s attack.

As the setter, he wasn’t often placed to actually receive balls like this, it was just a precautionary placement. It was the second of the other team’s middle blockers, a serious-looking first year with light orange hair who spiked the ball, straight past the block, right at Shirabu. He started to put his hands together but realized it was coming at him too high for that. An overhand pass would be necessary. Maybe he could turn this straight into a game-changing toss to Ushijima. Shirabu started to shift his arms, but the image of his trembling hands flashed through his mind and he hesitated a second too long.

The world went black for an instant and Shirabu ended up on the ground. A second year libero and another second year wing spiker on his team knelt down next to him and asked if he was okay. Shirabu covered his face with his hands, tasting blood run down his throat.

The libero helped him get to his feet and slowly walk off the court where the second coach, a younger man who looked much friendlier than Washijou put a hand on his shoulder and led him into the locker room.

Shirabu leaned against a sink and removed his hand from his face, grimacing at the pool of red in his palm, After cleaning himself up, nothing had been broken, but a bit of blood still leaked from his nose and his split bottom lip. A bruise was already starting to form under his eye. Coach Saitou filled a plastic bag with ice and Shirabu pressed it to the side of his face that had been hit hardest.

“How are you feeling?” Saitou asked softly.

“...Like I don’t want to play volleyball anymore tonight...”

Saitou exhaled softly. “That’s understandable. Go rest in your room. You can come back tomorrow if you want to.”

Shirabu nodded silently and trudged to his dorm room. His bag was still unpacked on his bed, as was the luggage of the other first year he would be sharing the room with, who he hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. Shirabu flopped down on his bed, kicking his duffel out of the way of his legs and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

 

Shirabu woke up to rustling sounds and the smallest bit of light. Squinting for a second, he concluded that his roommate had arrived.

“Hello?” Shirabu said softly, sitting up.

The small glow of the phone screen turned to face him. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Kawanishi Taichi. Yours?”

“Shirabu Kenjirou.”

There was a pause and then the phone light bobbed up and down until it reached the wall and the room was suddenly flooded with light.

Kawanishi stood with his hand frozen on the light switch.

Shirabu found himself face to face with the orange-haired middle blocker from before.

“I spiked a ball into your face,” Kawanishi blurted.

Shirabu paused and gingerly skimmed his fingers over his swollen cheek. “...That you did.”

“Sorry about that...”

“S’okay. That’s a mean swing you got there.”

“Thanks... Are you new to volleyball?”

Shirabu’s mouth twitched in annoyance. “No. I’ve been playing since elementary school. Today was just an off day!”

“Gotcha gotcha... You coming back tomorrow?”

Shirabu crossed his arms. “I want to. Will they let me?”

Kawanishi shrugged. “Probably, but you’re gonna have to do better than today.”

Shirabu’s heart sank. “I know. I don’t know how to get better though. I changed my playing style entirely so I could come here and be the perfect setter for Ushijima, but obviously it hasn’t worked.”

“You changed your playing style?”

Shirabu leaned back against the wall. “In middle school, I used a lot of cool tricks and quick tosses and we won sometimes, but then I saw a match with Ushijima and I wanted to play with really powerful players. And I figured that the best tosses would be high and simple which should’ve been an easy adjustment, but I wanted to get it perfect and nobody on my team could hit with enough power, and Ushijima’s left handed, and—”

Kawanishi held up a hand, cutting Shirabu off. “I can hit like that.”

“A-are you offering to practice with me?”

“The gym’s probably still unlocked if you’re up for it.”

“Of course I’m up for it!” Shirabu got to his feet quickly and the two jogged back down to the gym, deserted, but unlocked.

 

Shirabu and Kawanishi walked into the gym after school the next day together after class. The friendly second year spiker who had come to Shirabu’s aid the previous day approached him again before practice started.

“Shirabu-kun, I’m glad to see you’re back! How’re you feeling?”

Shirabu smiled slightly, a bit of pain hitting him as his lips turned up at the corners. “I’m doing well, thanks. Just hoping for a better day today. I don’t think I caught your name...?”

The spiker smiled broadly. “Ohira Reon. You’ll do better today, I’m sure. The first day is always a little crazy.”

Shirabu nodded in agreement.

Just then a whistle blew and the teens in the gymnasium rushed to start stretching and warming up.

 

Throughout practice that day, Shirabu was able to get some clean shots off of Kawanishi and Reon both. Just having them both there was a huge confidence boost for Shirabu and his technique improved from the start of practice to the end. On a few occasions, he caught Washijou watching him from the side of the court and Shirabu made a point to focus even harder on sending perfect tosses.

Shirabu didn’t get paired with Ushijima for the next few practices, but Shirabu never took his focus off of the older player for very long. While helping to clean up, Shirabu would glance over at Ushijima every few minutes. He wanted to ask him to stay and practice with him just a little bit. Shirabu ran drills and practiced tosses with Kawanishi, and he was getting to a point where he thought he might just be able to send a couple successful tosses to Ushijima if he could get the chance.  
However Ushijima was usually occupied after practices with the chatter of his red-headed companion and other second years, the libero who also had helped Shirabu that first day, Reon, and a light-haired setter who Shirabu hadn’t seen in action much, among them.

 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Shirabu was paired against and with Ushijima a couple of times. He paid special attention during those matches, putting 110% of his effort forth to give perfect tosses. A few still weren’t as precise as Shirabu would’ve liked, but they all made it to Ushijima’s hand and subsequently, to the floor on the opposite side of the net. Through practice matches of randomized teams, Shirabu eventually got introduced to some of his other clubmates like Tendou Satori and Yamagata Hayato. The few people he didn’t ever get put on the same team as were obviously the other setters. It was a while before Shirabu found himself on the opposite side of the net as the formidable-looking second year.

Shirabu and the others on his make-shift team promptly had their asses handed to them by the combination of Ushijima and the other setter on the opposite side of the net.

“Who is that guy?” Shirabu panted and reached for his water bottle when the match had finished, obviously in the other team’s favor, 25-19.

Yamagata pulled his water bottle away from his mouth. “Who, Semi? He’s pretty good. He’ll probably get a regular spot next year for sure if not this year.”

Shirabu considered this. Next year would be Ushijima’s last year. Shirabu would have to beat Semi if he wanted to play in real matches with Ushijima. “What’s he like? I haven’t seen much of his playing style before today.”

“He’s very cohesive with everybody he plays with. Apparently he’s one of the strongest setters this school has ever seen. I think he’s got a few from the girls team following him around. They like the way he takes over the court every now and then out of nowhere.”

Shirabu grimaced slightly. This would be his next hurdle. He’d finally made it to Shiratorizawa. Now he needed to beat out Semi and make the team.

 

The following weekend had many of the players of the volleyball team on edge. They had a tradition of hosting a practice match against the strongest team in the prefecture four weeks after the start of the school year. Shiratorizawa had won the previous year so the second place team was invited over.

Normally, during practice matches, those without a regular spot or backup position would be practicing, but today the first years were encouraged to stay and watch how an intense practice match would be conducted. Shirabu watched excitedly from the sideline as the game started.

It was only twelve minutes into the first set, Shiratorizawa was down two points. Washijou called out and the whistle blew after the particular scrimmage had finished.

Shirabu wasn’t near the front of the cluster but he could make out a card with the number five on it. Number five, that’s the setter. That means—

The setters swapped, Semi taking his place.

Shirabu fidgeted slightly in his spot as the whistle blew again.

The two points were quickly regained, then the score kept climbing. Semi seemed to steal the show from the second he stepped on the court. Every toss he sent to a spiker was fast and precise. He sent setter dumps over the net that threw the other team into a panic.

Shirabu watched with a mixture of awe and fear. As much as he would love to watch Semi play for the rest of time, he had to focus on being better than him. Shirabu reminded himself that the plays Semi made weren’t fast and flashy, not the ideal playing style for this school. By mastering the high, simple tosses he was working on, Shirabu would come out on top.

He reminded himself of this, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in on him. Semi was racking up points like he’d never seen before.

Shirabu felt his heart flutter as Semi executed an expert dump, the other team racing to receive it, but to no avail. It had been so long since Shirabu had pulled off a play like that, though he desperately wanted to fall back into his original style of flashy plays and quicks.

 

They had a bit more practice time after the practice match, it having ended fairly quickly, the score of the second set only reaching 25-15.

“You okay there?” came a voice behind Shirabu after a round of drills.

Shirabu whirled around. Tendou was leaning against the wall, patting sweat off his face with a towel.

“Tendou-san. I’m alright, why do you ask?”

“You look a little distracted.” Tendou smirked.

Shirabu realized he was staring at Semi. And had been for a while now. He blushed and looked at the ground. “He’s very skilled.”

“But...”

Shirabu looked back up at Semi. “But I think—”

The whistle blew and they were beckoned back out onto the courts.

“You can tell me later.” Tendou winked and ran back into the center of the gym.

Shirabu took a final swig of water and followed.

 

Practice ended and Shirabu ran through all the homework he had yet to do that evening as he gathered his clothes and backpack from his locker. His attention was snagged as one voice rose above the usual din of the locker room.

Shirabu looked up and saw the third year setter yelling and pushing Semi against a wall a short distance away. Semi wasn’t short by any means but the third year had at least five centimeters and four kilos on him.

“That position is mine! Don’t let yourself get put on the court ever again. I’m our setter, not some dumbass second year!”

Semi didn’t back down, just stood up straighter and looked the third year in the eye. “I’m not the dumbass here. Ask Washijou if you don’t believe me. He’s the one who put me in the game.”

There were a few scattered chuckles and “ohhhhh!”s in the silence that had fallen over the locker room.

The third year and Semi stared each other in the eye for a solid thirty seconds before Semi spoke up again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than entertain your notion that you might be the best setter here.” Semi slid out from between the third year and the wall, calmly grabbing his backpack and heading through the door without a backwards glance.

“Whatever,” the third year growled and headed for one of the shower stalls.

Conversation began again amongst the others, though it was significantly quieter than before.

Shirabu jumped slightly as Tendou tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

The second year was grinning. “What were you telling me about Eita earlier?”

Shirabu smiled slightly. “Well I didn’t doubt that he was an intimidating person.”

Tendou chuckled. “Our Semi’s a tough nut to crack, eh?”

“That’s for sure.”

“Did you want to come back to my dorm for a while?”

Shirabu was slightly surprised by the offer. “Thank you, but I’m sure you have plenty to do tonight.”

Tendou waved a hand dismissively. “It sounded like you had something to say. I want to hear your thoughts.”

Shirabu gladly grabbed his belongings and followed Tendou outside the locker room.

The red-haired second year was hard to walk with. He kept stopping to look at signs around the school, then running ahead to grab something from the vending machine, the offering some of the fruit snacks to Shirabu then leaving the entire bag in Shirabu’s hands as he saw a cool bird out the window and had to go look.

Tendou’s side of the dorm room was as disorganized as Shirabu had expected it to be. The other half, while still messier than Shirabu’s own room, was austere in comparison.

Tendou flung himself onto his bed, so Shirabu perched lightly on the desk chair. This was the first time he’d been in someone else’s dorm room and he felt slightly invasive.

The faint sound of running water was echoing from behind the bathroom door at the back of the room.

“Who's in there?” Shirabu asked.

Tendou shrugged. “Just my roommate. Don't mind him. What were you going to tell me before about Eita?”

“I was just going to say that he's really good, but for this team, a slower, high toss would better utilize the weapons we have in our arsenal.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Mhm. I started changing my technique last year to match that. I think that the best use of Ushijima-san is to give him every toss, not flashy or quick, but powerful. With his skill, he doesn’t need to outsmart the defense or be faster than them, if I give him the most solid toss possible he’ll be able to just slam it past them.”

Tendou’s expression turned to one of barely restrained excitement. “That’s a really unique idea! I think it could just work out for you!”

Shirabu paused for a second. “You’re friends with Semi, aren’t you? Don’t tell him what I said, I really do think that his style is amazing. Getting to watch him in action today was inspiring, honest. He doesn’t need to know what I think about him.”

“Who doesn’t need to know what you think?”

Shirabu jumped in the chair and whipped his head around to face the bathroom door.

Water dripped lazily from the black tips of Semi’s hair. A towel was draped over his shoulders.

Shirabu stood up from the chair and took a step backwards. “He’s your roommate, Tendou??”

Tendou cackled. “Semi, meet Shirabu Kenjirou. . He’s gonna take over for you when you graduate.”

Semi raised one eyebrow and put a hand on his hip. “Oh really?”

“U-um, hi, nice to meet you...”

“You’re a setter?” Semi asked skeptically.

“Um, yeah, I am. I’m new here. I-I liked watching you play earlier today. It was really impressive.”

Semi scowled and stalked out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shirabu looked at Tendou. “Um...”

Tendou shrugged. “I don’t think he’s very happy. He and the other setter were friends at one point until Semi got good and they started to seriously compete for the spot. This is the first time that Semi’s been put into a real match.”

“I see... So did you invite me over to your dorm so that Semi could ignore me or what were you going for here?”

Tendou grinned and hopped off of his bed. “No, there’s someone else who I’m anticipating to walk through my door any second now. Oh, and by the way, you’re sitting in his spot.”

“What? Who?”

As if on cue, the door quickly opened and Ushijima took two powerful steps into the center of the room.

Shirabu jumped out of the swivel chair and backed away from the imposing figure.

Tendou giggled slightly. Shirabu felt his face heat up.

Ushijima gave Shirabu one quick look before turning his gaze to Tendou, sprawled across the bed.

“Satori, do you have my copy of tonight’s math homework?” Ushijima said in his rumbling voice.

The hairs along Shirabu's arms stood on end at the deep sound.

“Ah, coincidentally, I think I do!” Tendou grinned cheekily and reached for his backpack. “I was hoping you might help me with some of it. I don't understand this new stuff!”

Ushijima didn't seem to register Tendou’s joke. “You told me yesterday that you had an A in math.”

“Wakatoshiii! Please?”

Shirabu stood near the back of the room, watching this take place with some mixture of amusement and horror.

“Fine. I'll try to do it by myself, but can you stay just in case I have questions?”

Ushijima sat down in the desk chair and grabbed his copy of the assignment out of Tendou’s backpack.

Tendou rolled so he was sitting against the wall. There was silence for a few moments as both second years began their homework before Tendou looked up again. “Do you have homework tonight, Shirabu?”

Shirabu nodded hesitantly.

“Semi doesn't like when people mess up his desk. You can sit on his bed though.”

The red head must've seen the horrified look on Shirabu's face as he looked at the quickly made twin bed on the other side of the room. “Or you could sit with me.”

Shirabu wanted to be out of the room, but he silently stepped over to Tendou’s unkempt space and perched on the edge of the mattress between the two second years.

He almost felt secure after a few minutes of relative quiet, other than Tendou's frequent position changes, but suddenly Tendou flew off the bed.

“Eita’s been gone a long time, dontcha think? I'm gonna go find him!”

“T-Tendou-san, wait—” Shirabu started to say but the quick middle blocker was already out the door.

Shirabu's gaze shifted to Ushijima, but the older student hadn't looked up from his homework. Shirabu looked back down at the notebook Tendou had discarded on the bed. It was open to a page, blank other than the words “keep him company, Shirabubu!” written in a barely-legible scrawl.

Shirabu grimaced and closed the notebook, looked back at Ushijima who was on the last problem of the worksheet in front of him. He wrote down the answer, his own handwriting somehow even harder to read than Tendou's.

Shirabu cleared his throat softly. “You did r-really well today in the practice match.”

Ushijima looked at him blankly. “Obviously.”

Shirabu's lower jaw dropped a centimeter. He hadn't known that Ushijima was the narcissistic type. “Obviously...”

“We won. We all played well.”

Shirabu let out a soft sigh of relief. “Do you like playing?”

Ushijima’s expression softened. “I do.”

“What do you think of playing with Semi as the setter?”

“I've been playing with Semi since junior high. I'm very comfortable with his tosses.”

Shirabu's heart sunk a notch. “Would you help me practice sometime?” He blurted.

The tiniest flash of emotion crossed Ushijima’s face.

“Sorry, I didn't mean—”

Ushijima tilted his head slightly. “You did mean that. We can practice now if you want.”

Shirabu tossed his book on the floor and stood up impossibly fast.

 

Shirabu's head whirled the entire walk to the gym. Should he walk in front of Ushijima since he had been the one who wanted to practice? Should he walk behind him since he was older? Instead he fell into step directly beside Ushijima. The elder either didn't notice or didn't mind in the least.

A smattering of club members were still in the gym practicing on their own. Ushijima approached Yamagata who was bumping a ball repeatedly at the wall.

“Shirabu and I are going to practice spikes,” he said.

Shirabu's heart skipped a beat. _Shirabu and I_.

Yamagata understood the vague invitation and grinned, mostly at Shirabu.

The three ran drills for almost an hour. Shirabu would toss to Ushijima, Yamagata would solidly receive it and the cycle would repeat.

Shirabu had to walk back to Tendou and Semi’s room with Ushijima since both of their backpacks were there.

Ushijima knocked softly.

The door opened a crack and Tendou peered out. He disappeared again for a second, then came back with both of their bags.

“Sorry, you guys can't come in. Semisemi is asleeeeep!” Tendou said in a loud whisper, shutting the door again.

Shirabu looked up at Ushijima. “Well in that case... I'll... See you around...”

Ushijima nodded and starts to walk further down the hall.

“It was really great to practice with you!” Shirabu called after him.

Ushijima didn't stop walking, but gazed over his shoulder. “Same to you.”

Shirabu turned and started back to his own room, feeling numb. _Same to you_. “Same to you,” he murmured softly.

 

In the next weeks, Shirabu had several opportunities to show off how cohesive he and Ushijima could be together. He stayed after practice to continue refining their techniques many nights.

He and Ushijima were rarely alone in their practice. Tendou joined them a lot of the time and Yamagata was always willing to receive whatever they could hit over the net. If there wasn't too much homework, Kawanishi would join in occasionally, and Reon would come give Shirabu some different options to toss to as well.

But there just as many nights, if not more when Shirabu aimed to seek out some of his upperclassmen to practice, but found Semi already at work with them. Shirabu had no right to complain. Semi was the official setter now, the former setter had angrily taken to the sidelines during matches to glare at the members on the court.

What Shirabu had been told about Semi was correct. He was a very strong setter and despite Shirabu's theories about slow, high tosses being ideal, Semi was unimaginably cohesive with everyone he tossed to. Ushijima and Tendou were already regulars, but Reon joined them as well shortly in the starting lineup..

As the season progressed and they got closer to interhigh, the team of regulars stayed to keep playing together after practice had ended more and more often. Shirabu would approach one of them and ask if he could practice with them if Semi wasn't around, but the answer was almost always an apologetic no. As the month of interhigh began, everyone was starting to feel immensely excited, even those who knew for certain they wouldn't be playing in any real matches. Shirabu practiced long into the evening with Kawanishi and Yamagata, stealing glances at the regulars on the adjacent court, seamlessly running through plays. Shirabu longed to feel like he belonged to a group like them.

Even when Shirabu felt too tired to keep practicing, someone, usually Yamagata, would pester him to keep playing and Shirabu was able to find reserve strength to keep going. He made mental note to thank Yamagata someday for making sure he kept working hard. When Shirabu had given up, Yamagata was there to remind him how badly he wanted to play in official matches.

 

When the tournament finally arrived, everyone was antsy, and no one more than the starting team. Several of them were new to the idea of being the ones standing on the court when losing would mean going home for the rest of the season. Shirabu couldn’t understand the electricity flooding through his veins as he watched from the stands above. Why was he so nervous? He had no influence on whether they won or lost, so why did it still feel like he was the one standing on the polished floor, waiting for the first whistle to blow.

When they won matches, he celebrated with the rest of them, even if he hadn’t had any effect on the outcome of the game.

 

In the fourth game they played, the libero took a nasty dive after a ball and came up, clutching at his wrist. Everyone stood silently, trying to catch snippets of conversation and figure out if their comrade was alright. After a brief examination, he was told to visit the infirmary and sit out the rest of the match.

Shirabu’s heart skipped a beat as he saw Yamagata step toward the court, stone-faced and serious. Shirabu remembered the last conversation they’d had two nights prior.

_“I’m excited to be the backup of course,” he had said. “But it also makes me incredibly nervous. Every team is different to play against and being a libero, you have to learn how to adapt really quickly to that. And in the grand scheme of things, attacking gets you points, but you win a volleyball game by not letting the ball touch the ground. That would be my job. I know it will be next year, and I’m sure I’ll be able to do it then, but... I don’t know if I’ll be ready if the need arises.”_  
“I think you’re a very proficient libero,” Shirabu had responded. “When we used to practice a lot with the others, there were a lot of Ushijima’s spikes I thought no one would be able to receive, but you did.”  
Yamagata had smiled slightly at that. “I really do want to join the rest of the others of my class. So many second years are on the team this year, I feel like I’m getting left behind.”  
“Then don't let yourself fall behind. If you get a chance to play in an official match, don't let that opportunity go to waste,” Shirabu had told him. 

Now, Shirabu cheered loudly for his friend as Yamagata stepped onto the court.

There were a few plays Yamagata missed at the beginning, but as time progressed, he began to get more comfortable and he started being able to receive anything and everything, no matter how fast or difficult. And Shirabu cheered every single time for him.

The other team was defeated easily and Shirabu ran to catch up with Yamagata as soon as he possibly could after the match.

“You did it,” Shirabu said. “How did it feel?”

Yamagata gave him a shaky smile. “Empowering. I feel like I could take on the world right now.”

Shirabu felt longing rise up inside him, filling up his stomach and into his throat, choking him.

He took a labored breath, looking away from Yamagata.

The older didn't notice, lost in his joy from the won match.

Shirabu looked around at the rest of the team. Everyone was smiling, laughing, happy, and no one more than the team of starters.

In the same moment that Shirabu felt suffocated by his desire, he felt empty. He fingered the hem of his jacket restlessly.

The next matches, win or lose, Shirabu didn't care, couldn't focus on the games. All he could do was stare blankly at the court and long to be there with them.

 

Most of the club fled to their rooms to sleep as soon as they got back to the school for the night, and none of them stuck around longer than ten minutes. Shirabu let the others trickle out the big doors until he was the last one there. He grabbed a ball out of the supply closet and threw tosses at the wall. He didn't feel tired even if it had been past 10 pm when they'd gotten home. All Shirabu wanted was to be good enough to be a regular. He thought about tossing to Ushijima or Reon. He imagined Yamagata behind him ready to save any ball that got blocked. He dreamed of Tendou and Kawanishi beside him, tuned precisely into the ball’s movement, ready to jump at just the right instant to slam it back down to the other side of the court. All the people Shirabu had beguile a relationship with over the past few months, he wanted to play with them again, but for real this time, on a real court with people watching and cheering, all the focus in the stadium on their ace.

Shirabu tossed at the one once again, the ball ricocheting off above his head and flying behind him. The last mirage of the real game he'd been picturing faded away as the ball rolled to a stop. Shirabu picked it up and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was quarter to three in the morning. Tomorrow was the semifinals and finals, if they could make it that far. He should rest.

Shirabu walked slowly back to his dorm, careful not to wake Kawanishi as he entered.

 

As everyone had expected, they won both their games the next day. There was a short period of time before nationals and everyone was hard at work again every day. But when everyone else evacuated the gym for the night, Shirabu stayed behind, perfecting his toss, fantasizing about a real game. On one occasion he finally snapped out of his stupor when a few of his teammates entered the gym again for the morning. Shirabu looked at the clock. Was it really seven in the morning already?

“Where were you?” Came a hushed voice from behind him.

Shirabu whirled around to see Kawanishi standing behind him.

“Damn it, Taichi, you scared the shit out of me.” Shirabu glared at his roommate.

The middle blocker seemed unfazed by the animosity in this tone. “You didn't come back to the room last night.”

“Don't assume things,” Shirabu donned his best annoyed face. “I came back after you went to sleep and left again before you woke up. I wanted to get a bit of extra practice in, unlike your lazy ass.”

Kawanishi blinked, shrugged and walked away. Shirabu couldn't tell whether or not he'd believed the lie.

 

Nationals came and went, they'd placed an impressive third place. Shirabu had done nothing but stare and dream of himself down there, listening to the shouts of his teammates and fans cheering for all of them.

 

Three weeks passed, the hunger to play had only increased for Shirabu. He came back into the gym during lunch to practice and he still often stayed late into the night. The first real wake up call came in the form of an email he'd almost deleted out of his inbox without a glance. The message was from the school, telling him that he was failing most of his classes and would be kicked out of the school if he did not show improvement in the next two weeks. Shirabu refused to go to Kawanishi for help. He knew he'd get a “told you so” in response. Instead, Shirabu headed back to his dorm room a little bit before he normally would, setting alarms so he didn't stay in the gym past two in the morning. He did homework by the light of his phone under the blankets so he wouldn't disturb Kawanishi.

Shirabu avoided expulsion by a narrow margin, his two week deadline ending with two C’s and five D’s. He wasn't failing anything anymore, but he was still on probation and had to be passing everything by the end of term or he would be kicked out. The routine continued, practicing for hours in addition every night then staying up as long as he needed to finish his homework.

After a particularly rough all-nighter, Shirabu went to practice a little more irritable than usual. Kawanishi made some comment to him, which Shirabu brushed off as usual, but he felt like there were eyes on him all practice.

Now that interhigh was over, the second year regulars were more willing to spend some time practicing with him in the evening. He had Ushijima and Reon with him against Kawanishi, Tendou and Yamagata.

In the middle of a practice match, Shirabu felt his vision start to go black around the edges. He stumbled as he ran to his position, preparing for an attack.

“Shirabu, are you sure you're okay?” Kawanishi said from the other side of the court, his voice a bit louder than normal.

Shirabu felt his knees buckle involuntarily.

There was a gentle hand on his back, Shirabu shook it off. The ball flew into his hands, he sent it toward Ushijima.

Even Shirabu was surprised at just how perfect the toss was. The only person who didn't look fazed was Ushijima. Tendou and Kawanishi were right there on the other side of the net, arms outstretched to block the spike, but the ball slammed right past them. This was the perfect, powerful spike Shirabu had been working for.

In the same instant that the ball hit the floor, Shirabu collapsed. The ball bounced, Shirabu’s head didn't.

 

Reon had already been right behind him, trying to stop him before he overdid it.

Shirabu sat up and stared into Reon’s dark eyes, somewhat unfocused.

“Shirabu. Look at me, are you okay?” Reon put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Good spike, Ushijima-san.” Shirabu attempted to get to his feet, ignoring the pounding in his skull and the concerned looks from everyone else on the court.

Reon pushed him back onto the floor. “Shirabu, you hit your head, are you hurt?”

“I'm fine. Let's get back to it.”

“No, you're going back to your dorm.”

Shirabu focused on Reon and blinked angrily.

The spiker helped him gingerly to his feet, supported his back with one large hand.

Shirabu didn't have the energy to keep fighting, and allowed himself to be led out of the gym.

 

After making sure there was no risk for a concussion, the two walked slowly toward Shirabu’s dorm room.

“We've all been worried about you lately,” Reon said softly. “I... I just wish I would've done something sooner before you hurt yourself.”

“Thanks, Reon,” Shirabu whispered.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I just need to rest a little bit I think...”

“How much do you even sleep anymore?”

“I stay in the gym until 2, then come back and do homework until it's all done, then I sleep.”

Reon sighed, opening the door to the dorm when they reached it. “I'm surprised you've made it this far without conking out.”

Shirabu gingerly sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now do you see how hard I'm willing to work to get onto the team?”

“Shirabu.” Reon looked at him steadily. “I've always been able to see how dedicated you are to volleyball. All of us have.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Shirabu's eyes. “Why can't Washijou see then?”

“He will. Don't worry.”

“How am I supposed to be better than Semi? You guys want him to be on the court as much as he does. You'd never pick me over him.”

“It's not about what any of us may want. The best setter will play in matches. But overworking yourself is not the answer.”

“Did you see that toss I made though? It was perfect. I need to do that every time. How am I gonna achieve that if I don’t practice?”

“That’s not what I said. Just don’t work yourself to total exhaustion.

Shirabu laid down and hid the silent tears in his pillow. “What else do I have left to try? All I want is to be on the court with you guys. But that’s never gonna happen.”

“Everything that’s meant to happen will happen.”

Shirabu didn’t respond, just waited silently until Reon ran a hand over his back, then stood up and quietly left the room.

 

Over the next five weeks, Kawanishi and Reon paid special attention to Shirabu, making sure he was eating during meal times and sleeping at night. Shirabu had no desire to repeat this experience again. After he’d collapsed during the 3-on-3, he’d slept for 22 hours. After that he got himself back on track fairly easily, but it was still nice to have the support of all of his friends.

Now that he wasn’t mentally and physically exhausted, he was able to show off during practice, trying to make it as evident as possible that pairing him with Ushijima could prove very effective for their team.

The spring tournament was fast approaching. They played practice matches against colleges and teams from outside Miyagi whenever possible. 

Just prior to yet another match against some college team, Shirabu was getting ready to move into the smaller gym to practice with the rest of the club members who weren’t regulars, when he heard his name called.

Washijou was staring at him from a short distance away.

Shirabu jogged over, his heart pounding from being singled out like this. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re our backup this match. Go stand over there.”

Shirabu couldn’t move. His mouth may have fallen open, he wasn’t sure. All he could do was stand paralyzed as the word “backup” swam through his head.

Washijou cleared his throat loudly and Shirabu snapped out of his trance, murmuring a quick “Thank you, sir,” before running over to join the rest of the backup players in the white box painted onto the court.

He high-fived Yamagata who also stood in the box.

“You’re in?” The libero asked, grinning.

Shirabu smiled slightly. “As a backup, yeah.”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and get to play!”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky...” Shirabu repeated softly, looking out at the players standing at the ready on the court.

Maybe Shirabu had just been thinking unrealistically, but he couldn’t shake the disappointment at the end of the game when he hadn’t been put in.

He watched as Semi gave Tendou a rough high-five then wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Shirabu wanted to be the one sweating with exertion, tired but satisfied with the win. Instead he’s just been standing for an hour, trying to stay still, eyes tracking every move the ball made, itching to get his hands on it as well.

 

In the next practice match, Shirabu expected to be filled with the same smothering anticipation as he stood static by the sideline. However a little ways into the second set, he was beckoned to the bench then put in the game in Semi’s place.

It was only for a few minutes, but they were the most intense minutes of Shirabu’s life. He’d been subbed in just because his toss style was so different from Semi’s and that could be used to throw the other team.

The first toss he sent Ushijima’s way was hesitant and sloppy and it was easily blocked. Shirabu apologized profusely, immediately looking toward the sideline to see if he would be called right back off again. Washijou gave him a blank stare, but made no move to call him back. The next toss he sent to Reon. It was more confident and the second year easily spiked it into the floor on the opposite side of the net. The next play, he focused on sending Ushijima the perfect toss. The ball rolled off his fingers in just the right way, arcing gracefully through the air without a wobble. The image of Ushijima’s large hand cupping the ball just for an instant before flinging it straight past the block that Shirabu had fantasized about so much was suddenly happening right in front of his eyes. 

The next toss was the picture of perfection as well. So was the next one. And the next.

Shirabu tossed a total of seven point-scoring balls before he was called back to the sideline.

Yamagata clapped him on the back excitedly.

Shirabu panted for a few minutes, shooting Yamagata a triumphant grin. “That felt amazing...”

Yamagata smiled widely. “Isn't it great?!”

Shirabu couldn't keep the grin off of his face the rest of the match.

When the match finally finished, Shirabu went to the locker room with the rest of his teammates and was about to grab his belongings and leave when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Where ya going?” Tendou grinned cheekily.

“Um... To my dorm...” Shirabu replied hesitantly.

Reon approached him from the other side. “Do you have a few minutes to spare instead?”

“...why...?”

“When we have a match, we have a tradition that everyone who plays goes and grabs dinner and ice cream. Want to join us?”

Shirabu was awestruck. He was invited to get dinner with the rest of the regulars. He felt like a million dollars. Plus some.

 

The eight of them who had played in that match gathered up their bags and headed for the doors together. Anyone was allowed off campus but it rarely happened with all that they were provided at the school. But apparently it was part of the tradition to venture off a few blocks away to a small diner.

It was clear that this was the usual place and that the group was recognized by the way the tall man behind the counter sighed, covered his face with his hands and sulked away into the kitchen. Tendou and the team’s third wing spiker scampered off to flirt with a teenage girl polishing glasses behind a counter.

Shirabu followed the others to the largest booth, deserted along with the rest of the tables. He ended up in between Reon and Semi.

Once the rest of their crew joined them, the man who didn’t look all that excited to see his restaurant full of teenage boys slowly walked over, a pad of paper and a pen in his hand and an irritated frown on his face.

“You guys know what you want?” The waiter asked.

Shirabu skimmed over the menu, then pulled his wallet out of his pocket, not sure how much money he even had on him.

Semi laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, your dinner’s on us because you’re the new kid.

Shirabu looked nervously at Semi. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone. The others were all smiling at him as well.

“O-oh. Thank you. Um... What’s good here?”

The table erupted in chatter as everyone shouted out what their favorite thing on the menu was. The waiter sighed heavily.

 

Shirabu just ended up with a burger and fries and he happily ate as the other players cracked jokes and bantered around food-filled mouths.

Shirabu’s encounter with Semi before certainly hadn’t been an accurate representation. When the older setter was around friends and in a good mood, he had a sarcastic humor that made Shirabu laugh. As he got more comfortable with the group, Shirabu started to be able to retaliate with his own comebacks and good-natured insults. The feeling of belonging to something bigger had finally been achieved.

When the meal had been finished and their trash had been neatly deposited in a trash can (the third year wing spiker left a napkin with his phone number on the table for the girl employee to find), they all headed back outside. The sun had set and a cool evening breeze shook the trees gently. Stars were starting to become visible in the dusk sky and the moon, just bigger than a half, illuminated the quiet street. The third year libero led the way further down the road to a small ice cream shop a block away from the diner.

The eight teenagers were barely even able to fit into the cramped shop. The man behind the counter had to have been at least 80 years old, but he smiled warmly at the group. They went single file, each ordering their ice cream cone from the elderly man. Every scoop came out perfectly spherical, exactly precise. Shirabu’s cone was paid for by the others once again, which he thanked them all for.

When all of the cones had been distributed, they meandered out of the shop to the top of a grassy hill out back. They sat in silence, licking at their desserts and thinking to themselves.

“I think we’ll go far this tournament,” Reon said quietly after a while.

“I think we’ll take nationals!” The third year wing spiker threw his fist into the air excitedly.

“We have very strong players both on our starter team and our backup,” Ushijima agreed.

Tendou flicked Shirabu’s shoulder.

The indirect compliment hadn’t been lost on Shirabu; he licked at his ice cream self-consciously.

“People keep wigging out about Aoba Jousai beating us. We have to staunch them and prove we’re always gonna be the best in Miyagi!”

Shirabu chuckled lightly. “There’s never been a doubt in my mind.”

This earned him a gentle smack on the back and scattered laughs from the others.

“Welcome to the club, Shirabu.”

 

The conversation turned back to casual joking as they picked themselves back up and strolled unhurriedly back to the school.

When the building started to come into view, Shirabu dropped back a little in the cluster, falling into step with Semi.

“Hey,” Shirabu said hesitantly.

Semi looked over at him. “Hi. What’s up?”

Shirabu rubbed the back of his head and looked away slightly. “I just wanted to say it was really cool to play with you, I mean, not with you, but... It was cool. It felt like we were a team, you and I.”

Semi smiled good-naturedly. “Thanks. We do work well together, don’t we. Your style works where mine doesn’t, I do things you can’t...”

Shirabu glared.

Semi chuckled softly. “I’m kidding. You’re alright, kid.”

Shirabu felt the corners of his mouth turn up. “Just because I don’t do certain things, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Oh, I believe you. I can already tell I want you to take over as setter when I graduate.”

Shirabu wasn’t going to say anything about wanting to take his spot sooner than that. “Thank you, that means a lot actually. I hope I’ll be good enough.”

“Maybe you and I could do some practicing together sometime.”

“Really?” Shirabu didn’t know what to say.

Semi smirked. “Hey, if you’re gonna be my backup for the next year and a half, I need you to be good.”

Shirabu smiled. “Then by all means. Can we practice together tomorrow evening?”

The elder laughed softly. “So eager. The other regulars and I want to work on something new tomorrow after practice but you and I could hang out on Saturday afternoon and work.”

Shirabu tried to contain his elation but ended up with a small skip in his his step anyway. “That would be great. Thank you!”

 

He fidgeted his way to Saturday, keeping an eye on the clock all through morning practice. When they were all finally released, Shirabu immediately ran over to Semi.

Semi smiled. “You ready? Or you need to take a break first?”

Shirabu shook his head. “I’m ready.”

For three hours the two of them practiced in the gym, discussing setting techniques and tossing against the wall and to each other. Shirabu followed Semi’s every word like it was sacred, only striving to impress him.

And Semi certainly did look impressed. When they’d finished up, they casually walked back towards Semi’s dorm room, chatting and cracking jokes.

Tendou and Ushijima were both there as well, Ushijima sitting in Tendou’s desk chair like normal, Tendou sprawled half on the bed, half on his desk, as normal as you could call him.

“Ooh, you’re back! How’d it go?” Tendou asked with a wink.

Semi cracked a smile. “Alright, Satori, you got me, he’s pretty good.”

Shirabu looked back and forth between Tendou and Semi. “Were you...”

Semi waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I should learn to believe Satori when he tells me there’s a new setter on the block.”

Tendou grinned and smacked Ushijima’s arm a few times. “See? See, I was right!”

Ushijima blinked. “Shirabu is a talented setter.”

Shirabu blushed and took a step backwards.

Tendou giggled. “Just take the compliment, Shirabubu!”

Shirabu glared and crossed his arms. “Don’t call me that in public.”

Trying to hide a smile, Semi raised an eyebrow and poked his junior’s shoulder. “In public? What kinds of things do you guys call each other in private?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “Like you can talk, Semisemi.”

Tendou fell backwards off his bed in laughter.

Semi lightly kicked his roommate. “Satori, I told you that name doesn’t leave this room.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t!”

Shirabu forced back laughter. “There’s apparently a lot of things that happen in this room we don’t know about.”

“It’s my room,” Semi narrowed his eyes, “nothing happens without my permission.”

“You sure, Eita?” Tendou let out an obscene noise.

Shirabu and Semi were both caught in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Semi put a hand weakly on Shirabu’s shoulder. “You trying to steal my man, Shirabu?” he wheezed.

“You sure I was ever yours, Eita?” Tendou called from the floor.

Semi laughed even harder, grabbed Shirabu’s shoulders and flung the younger setter onto the second bed with mock-rage.

Shirabu could barely put his arms up in defense, he was laughing too hard.

“Watch your back, kid.” Semi grinned and stood over Shirabu.

“Hey who’s stealing whose man now!?” Tendou giggled.

“How do you know he was ever yours, Satori?” Semi held a giggling, squirming Shirabu against the mattress.

“Threesome!” Tendou yelled.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. Semi moved quickly away from Shirabu as the door opened and a school staff member stepped in, glaring. “This noise level is unacceptable. All of you are getting detention. Come to my office.”

The door slammed shut and they were all silent for a minute.

Ushijima spoke up for the first time that afternoon. “You all were being quite childish, but I don’t see why I have to...”

Tendou giggled softly. “Welcome to the team, Shirabu.”

 

During the next practice match, Shirabu was used tactically once again in the middle of the second set. Since his style was so drastically different from Semi’s the switch caught the other team completely off guard. The win felt good and once again, Shirabu went out to eat with the rest of the players.

They won the next match as well. The feeling of victory was something Shirabu found himself more and more addicted to.

Spring high was fast approaching and the regulars began their routine of staying late after practice ended to continue working out the kinks in new strategies. This time however, Shirabu was with them, staying late into the evening, but never later than 8 or 9 pm.

**\-----**

The tournament finally rolled around and Shirabu bounced nervously in place along the sideline. He got put in once in the first set, pushing their point count ahead by nine in only a few minutes.

He high-fived Semi as they switched back. The other team, still a little discombobulated, went down easily and they progressed to the next match with little stress.

The trend continued, Semi always taking the lead, Shirabu getting thrown into the fray whenever they needed a wildcard to change the flow of the game.

The time Shirabu spent on the court was incredible. Somehow from one side of the painted white line to the other, the polished wood floor felt different beneath his feet. He knew he only ever had a few tosses at any given time and he made sure they would count. He tossed most often to Ushijima, letting the ace slam the ball down through the block, the cheering from the stands rising to a roar before the ball even hit the ground on the other side of the net. The occasional tosses Shirabu sent to the others tricked the defense entirely.

When he got called back off the court, the satisfaction he felt was like no other. He gladly handed the responsibility back to Semi and was greeted by high fives and claps on the back from the other backup players. Yamagata in particular became an even closer companion. They spent a lot of time together on the sideline, cheering for the regulars and discussing plays both on their side and the other.

By the third game of the tournament, Shirabu had never had a better time in his life. Walking through the halls of the stadium on their way to lunch, a couple spectating kids’ conversation was overheard.

“There’s no doubt Shiratorizawa’s headed to nationals again this year. Maybe they’ll even win it this year,” one of them said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Their spikers are amazing.” the other agreed

“They are. Their setter utilizes them so well.”

“He’s good too. Definitely stands out in a crowd. What do you think of their backup setter?”

“They... Oh, they did have a backup setter play didn’t they. I’m not sure, I didn’t really notice him all that much.”

As the kids walked out of earshot, Yamagata clapped Shirabu’s shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry about it, Shirabu. Eventually everyone will notice you for how good you are.”

But Shirabu only smiled over at his friend. “This is exactly what I wanted. I don’t want people looking at me. I want them looking at Ushijima.”

Yamagata grinned. “Oh yeah. You and your ‘highlight the ace’ complex.”

Shirabu smirked. “Too bad I’m the best-looking on the team anyway.”

The libero laughed. “Get out!”

 

The next match was against Aoba Jousai. Winning this would place them into nationals.

It was a difficult match for sure and while Shirabu’s tosses were as strong as usual, the block did manage to catch a couple of them, though their score had still increased significantly by the time he jogged back off the court. All in all, they did manage to pull off the victory yet again.

The group sauntered off to the diner in high spirits after returning to the school. The manager of the diner was as ticked off as usual at them, but their good mood was a little infectious and he even gave them a small smile as they left, though he could've just been glad they were finally getting out of his hair for the night.

They grabbed ice cream and went back to sit on the peaceful hill to look at the stars.

The group of teenagers were mostly silent, thoroughly worn out after the long day of games.

After twenty minutes, Reon sat up first. “We should go back to school. It’s getting late.”

The others nodded in agreement and dragged themselves to their feet.

Semi didn’t move.

Tendou giggled. “Eita fell asleeeep, can we draw on his face?”

“Satori, you share a room with him. For your safety, I wouldn’t recommend that,” Ushijima commented.

Shirabu plunked back down on the grass. “I’ll wake him up. You guys go ahead, we’ll catch up.”

Tendou giggled, but the rest of the team started walking back toward the school silently.

Shirabu shook Semi’s shoulder slightly and the older setter stirred.

“We have to go back to school, Semi.”

Semi groaned and sat up. “Did the others leave?”

“Just now yeah. I said we’d catch up.”

Semi sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Gotcha... But this is so peaceful...”

“It’s perfect.” Shirabu agreed, gazing at the wisps of cloud swirling against the black sky.

Semi glanced at him. “It is a nice night.”

“I mean all of this. Everything is perfect right now. I don’t want anything to change ever again.”

The elder setter stayed silent, waiting for Shirabu to continue.

“For a while at the beginning of the year I really wanted to take your place. I kept working to beat you because I wanted to be our setter. But I’m really happy being our backup. I like the cohesion you and I have, where I take over when we need it, then hand it back to you again. I want our team next year to be exactly like this year...”

Semi smiled. “I like the way things are right now too. It’ll be a little different with the third years gone, but I think next years team will be just as cohesive as now. You and I make a solid team like this, don’t we.”

“We do...”

After a few more seconds of silence, Semi stood up, reaching down to help Shirabu to his feet as well.

 

After the first game of nationals, they all had the same idea in their heads. They were going far this season. They’d made it to fifth place in the interhigh tournament, but they all felt confident that they could make it even further this time.

The normal setup proceeded, Shirabu popping into the game when they needed a boost.

They were all confident. Until the moment when none of them were.

Shiratorizawa landed in a disappointing 7th place finish. The opposing team had come out of nowhere in the middle of the second set, reversing the advantage and racking up points rapidfire.

Shirabu had been thrown into the middle of the third set with the score 17-9. When Shirabu had been pulled back out, the score was 21-18, much better than before but not enough to pull them through to the end of the game.

The punishment upon returning to the school was brutal. Ten laps of diving drills followed by five hours of spiking practice.

Nobody stayed behind in the gym to keep practicing after that. Every member slunk through the doors as soon as they were dismissed.

Shirabu and Kawanishi walked back to their dorm together, a fairly uncommon occurrence considering how often Shirabu stayed in the gym after practice with the others. Despite the rare companionship, they didn’t exchange a single word to each other, just trudged through the door, flicked on the light and sighed.

Shirabu tugged weakly at the zipper of his jacket before the stream of tears cut loose from behind his eyes. “I HATE THIS!” He screamed and sprinted away from the door, down the hall, outside of the building, the crisp night air threatening to freeze the tears on his cheeks. He ran as fast and as hard as he could until the feeling in his fingers and legs disappeared, his fingers from the cold, his legs from exhaustion. He slid briefly on a patch of gravel, caught himself, but was too weak to keep standing. He sunk down onto his hands and knees and sobbed, not even registering any pain.

When he finally picked himself up, he numbly walked back to the dorm room. Opening the door, the light was still on, Kawanishi sitting on his bed with a volleyball in his hand.

“Shirabu...”

Shirabu brushed the traces of tears off his face, not meeting Kawanishi’s eye. “It’s late.”

Kawanishi nodded but didn’t make any other movements.

Shirabu flopped down onto his bed, only barely registering the light turning off and Kawanishi climbing back into his own bed for the night. 

Shirabu awoke seemingly milliseconds later by the sound of the shower on in the bathroom. His head felt foggy and every muscle hurt. When he shifted ever so slightly, everything suddenly lit on fire. His head felt like it was splitting open, overworked muscles were violently torn, his hands and knees igniting as he irritated the ripped skin from falling. He couldn’t help the cry of pain that slipped through his mouth.

Within seconds, the shower turned off and Kawanishi threw the door open, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Shirabu?”

“FUCK!” Shirabu yelled, trying to curl himself into a ball small enough that the pain would disappear.

 

Kawanishi had to go to classes. Shirabu stayed in bed with the school’s nurse sitting beside him.

The cuts on his hands and knees were bandaged and he had swallowed the maximum recommended dosage of Advil. Everything still pounded with a dull ache though. Per Shirabu’s mumbled request, the nurse left after a little while and he laid alone, misery diffusing from the blanket he had pulled tightly around his shoulders.

By midday he’d pulled himself into a sitting position and hobbled around the room a few times. He was glad that practice had been canceled for the afternoon, because there was no way he would’ve been able to play anyway.

Kawanishi returned to the room as soon as classes were over, bringing a small pile of work for Shirabu to do.

Shirabu attempted to sit at his desk and do his missed work, but his brain wasn’t allowing him to focus on anything, ironic considering his brain had allowed him to do nothing but stay rooted to the feeling of failure all morning.

“Thanks brain,” he mumbled, tapping his pencil against the table top.

“Hmm?” Kawanishi looked up from his own desk.

“Nothing...”

 

Shirabu shoved a few more Advil tablets into his mouth as he ventured back into the gym the next afternoon, every muscle still on fire.

“How’re you feeling today?” Reon asked him in the locker room.

Shirabu pulled his school shirt off with the speed of someone five times his age. “Sore...”

Every time he tried to set, the ball slapped against the raw, torn skin on the palms of his hands and by the time the somber practice ended, a bit of blood was lazily oozing from the wounds again.

 

A week later, everything was getting back to normal. The lull in excitement had almost vanished. The third years would be graduating, new students would be coming soon after that and everyone fell back into their normal hard working mode, this time just working even harder to make sure they’d get further in nationals.

Shirabu was back to his usual determination as well and back to asking people to stay after to practice with him more. When the others didn’t want to, Yamagata has his back, urging people to just take a bit more time to work on fine tuning the plays they had.

 

It was two weeks later, only about a week before the third years would graduate when they had their first practice match with another school after the tournament.

The players were getting ready to hop back into their normal placements when Washijou called out to get their attention again.

“Everything stays the same as last year. Except third years, give your spots to the second years that will be taking your place.”

Yamagata grinned and Shirabu gave him a quiet low-five.

“Shirabu, you’re starter setter. Semi, you’re on the sideline.”

The world stopped spinning around Shirabu, but he was forced to run to his place in the center of the court.

Everything felt numb as he played the game on autopilot. After every single play, Shirabu would look over to the sideline, glance at Washijou’s unchanging expression, glance at Semi, still looking like he was in shock. Every time Shirabu looked over, he was ready for Washijou to call out that they were switching back setters and they’d be falling back into their normal rhythm with Shirabu only taking to the court for a few minutes when they needed the extra push. Every time Shirabu looked over, Washijou’s expression never changed and Semi was never called to switch. The team was one they’d played before and they won easily.  
The two teams bowed to each other and went their separate ways. Shirabu immediately started to walk toward Semi.

Yamagata came out of nowhere and grabbed Shirabu’s arm, yanking him back. “Shirabu, don’t,” Yamagata warned quietly.

Shirabu pulled against the libero’s grip. “But I don’t—”

“Come on. We’re going for dinner with the others.”

Shirabu watched Semi leave the gym without a glance in his direction, then slowly followed Yamagata and the others out of the gym to the diner.

Kawanishi had joined the group, taking the place of the third year middle-blocker who would be graduating and the conversation was light-hearted as usual, but Shirabu stayed silent the whole time, barely picking at the fries he ordered.

“It’s not right...” Shirabu whispered to Reon on their way back to the school “It just doesn’t feel right without Semi here.”

Reon smiled sadly and patted Shirabu’s back. “It’s okay. Aren’t you happy to be the main setter now?”

Shirabu shrugged. He thought he would’ve been.

 

The next practice match was largely the same. Shirabu kept looking over, waiting for the moment when Semi would be put back into the game in his place. The time never came.

The school year ended, the third years graduated, they had a break from classes that was mostly spent in the gym, preparing themselves for the new season. New first year students came on the first day of school. After a little while they had their customary practice match against the second place Miyagi team from last year. The first years stayed to watch. Shirabu watched the sideline.

Just before the next practice match, Shirabu approached Washijou.

“Can we do the same thing we used to do, where Semi and I switch part of the way through for a bit?”

“No.”

“Why not.”

Washijou’s icy glare made it seem like all of the air had flooded out of the room. “Because. He’s a backup setter. The only reason he goes into the game is if something happens to you. Stop letting your emotions cloud your judgement. You are our strongest setter. If you can’t handle the responsibility then get off my team.”

Shirabu relented, bowing slightly before running off.

The game went smoothly the first set, they won seven points ahead of the other team.

During the second set, they were still ahead by several points when Shirabu impulsively looked to the sideline again after a play. Instead of intently staring at the game at hand, Semi was slightly slouching, picking at a fingernail.

Desperation clawed at Shirabu, he wanted to yell at Semi not to give up, to keep paying his full attention to the game in case he got put in. Shirabu swallowed the raw feeling and kept playing.

They were still winning, but the raw panic of Semi giving up wasn’t going to let go of Shirabu’s heart.

_The only reason he goes into the game is if something happens to you._

That was what Washijou had said, right?

During the next play Shirabu went after a ball, tripping himself deliberately. His hands smacked the court loudly, drawing attention from both sides of the net.

Tendou was the closest to him and offered out a hand to help him to his feet.

“You okay, man?” Yamagata asked, hopping over as well.

Shirabu moved his ankle around slightly. “I’ll be fine, probably just twisted it slightly. I’m good.”

Tendou threw up the sign for a time out.

“Shirabu, do you want to take a breather, sit down for a bit? You don’t want to make it any worse.”

Shirabu looked at the bench with mock reluctance. “I... I guess you’re right.”

Yamagata and Tendou stayed by Shirabu’s side as he fake-limped to the edge of the court.

Washijou approved the request for him to sit out for a little bit.

Semi stared at Shirabu as he jogged onto the court.

Shirabu breathed a little easier than before.

The second set was lost.

The third set started off poorly as well. They were only ahead by one point when Washijou took his steely gaze off the court and looked at Shirabu.

“You’re going back in.”

“I... guess I can.”

The old man nodded and called time.

Shirabu went to high-five Semi as they passed each other.

The older setter didn’t raise his hand. “Do that again and I’ll break both of your legs myself,” Semi snarled.

Shirabu’s heart skipped a beat. He stopped jogging and looked back at Semi. The elder setter didn’t look back at him as he returned to his spot with the other backups.

Shirabu was a little shaken, but managed to play well anyway and they took back the third set, ultimately winning the match.

When they went out for dinner, Semi laughed and joked with the others, though he didn’t even spare Shirabu a glance. Still, the environment felt much more natural, just by having Semi present.

When they walked back to the school, Shirabu stayed near the back of the group, watching Semi walk ahead with Tendou and Ushijima.

They group started to split ways as they reached the dorm area. Kawanishi turned down the hall to his and Shirabu’s room.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Shirabu told his roommate quietly.

Kawanishi nodded silently and disappeared down the dimly lit hall.

Shirabu bit his lip for a second, working up the courage to call out. “S-Semi!”

The third years who were all still walking together toward their hall, all turned to look.

Semi and Tendou exchanged a glance before Semi took a step back in Shirabu’s direction.

“Semi, I...”

“If you’re going to apologize, thank you. I accept it. Get to bed.” Semi said darkly.

“I don’t get it!” Shirabu said loudly. “I thought you’d be happy! I just want things to be how they were last year. I never wanted to take your place!”

Semi’s expression didn’t lighten. “I’m deeply offended that you think so low of me that you feel you need to pretend to hurt yourself to let me play. I don’t want your pity, Shirabu.”

Shirabu wanted to get down on his knees and beg, for what exactly though, he wasn’t sure. “Semi, I just—”

“Shirabu, I don’t know if you remember, but something similar happened last year. I took the place of our third year setter. He was my friend too and do you remember what happened? He gave up. He let the loss defeat him. Do you really think so low of me that you think I'd let the same thing happen to me?”

Shirabu didn't respond for a few minutes.

“What if things are out of control and I need you... That’s how I felt today.”

Semi smiled slightly. “Shirabu, I’m gonna be pinch serving. I probably would’ve been put in the game today anyway.”

Shirabu froze. “Semi... I’m sorry.”

“I told you, I accept. Now go to bed.” Semi turned and took a step in the direction of his dorm.

“Semi, wait!”

The elder setter turned around again.

“Are you still mad at me?” Shirabu asked hesitantly.

Semi’s hard gaze softened. “No, Shirabu. I’m not.”

Shirabu nodded slightly. “Okay. Goodnight, Semi.”

“Goodnight Shirabu.”

**\-----**

“Oh my gosh, this is the greatest ever! I’m gonna be the ace in no time!”

Shirabu glared across the court at the first year wing spiker hopping up and down by the net.

Reon smiled at the underclassman. “Focus please, Goshiki, we’re about to start.”

“Right, sorry!”

The first year had overwhelming talent, that had been evident since the first practice of the year. None of the second year wing spikers were filling the role very well so Washijou sent the first year over to where the usual team of regulars were practicing.

Shirabu had certainly noticed Goshiki before, it was hard not to with all his jumping and yelling about being the ace. But Shirabu hadn’t paid him much mind, taking him for just another freshman with lofty dreams that may or may not ever come true.

That was until he spiked.

Shirabu got the same exact feeling of overwhelming power from Goshiki’s spikes that he got from Ushijima or Reon. Obviously nothing was quite like tossing to Ushijima, but Goshiki was definitely up there. The practice was immediately successful and Goshiki was pretty much guaranteed a regular spot in the next practice match.

The third years had a large project for classes to work on so none of them stayed in the gym after practice was over to keep playing. Because the team of starters rarely left when practice was over, Shirabu hadn’t often been into the locker room when it was crowded with his teammates all getting ready to leave for their rooms. There was chatter and occasional bursts of loud laughter. Shirabu spotted Goshiki talking with a few other first and second years.

“Are you sure you’re a first year, Tsutomu?” One of the second years asked. “You seem like you’ve been playing volleyball forever!”

Goshiki smiled warmly. “Only a few years. It was just something that clicked for me, like it was something I was meant to do.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes and dug into his locker. Out of the corner of his eye, Shirabu watched as Goshiki smoothly took off his black practice shirt.

For being a first year, Goshiki was incredibly built, his abs very visible and every muscle defined as he moved.

Shirabu changed into a white t-shirt quickly, trying not to compare the flat plane of his own chest to Goshiki’s. Without exchanging words to anyone else, Shirabu slung his backpack over his shoulders and stalked away to his dorm room.

 

Ten minutes later when Kawanishi walked into the room, Shirabu was on the floor, doing crunches.

The middle blocker blinked, frozen in the doorway. “Um.”

Shirabu hopped to his feet. “What, I’m not allowed to keep myself in shape, Kawanishi?”

Kawanishi made a face Shirabu couldn’t decipher and quickly went around him to the shower in the back of the room.

Shirabu crossed his arms as he heard the shower turn on. As illogical as he knew it was, Shirabu lifted up the hem of his shirt, wishing that by some stroke of magic, his abs could be clearly defined.

No such luck.

When Kawanishi was done in the shower, Shirabu took his place, pausing to look at himself in the bathroom mirror for a while before shaking his head, throwing pajamas on and going back into the main part of the room to study for a while.

 

The next insult came a week later when they had a practice match. Goshiki of course was their third wing spiker. Goshiki was as fired up as ever and they won the game with ease. They had no need for a pinch server to be put in the game at any point and Shirabu sadly went to go talk to Semi for a few seconds when the match had finished.

“Don’t worry about it, Shirabu. I’ll be here when you all need me. You’re doing great and so is everyone else.”

Shirabu sighed. “Thanks, Semi. I’m going to dinner with the others. I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun,” the pinch server smiled warmly before leaving the gym.

 

The team stepped through the door of the diner and Goshiki’s face immediately lit up. “Woah! This place is amazing! It looks so cool! I’m starving, let’s eat!”

The manager looked even more done than usual.

Goshiki took a spot between Tendou and Shirabu at their usual booth.

“Alright, new kid,” Yamagata grinned from the other side of the table. “Welcome to our post-game ritual. Eat as much as you want, we’re paying for you tonight.”

Goshiki looked excited but nervous. “That’s alright, I’ll pay my own way, I really like food and I eat a lot!”

Reon and Tendou laughed out loud.

Tendou reached into his pocket and slammed a 1000 yen note on the table. A few others did similarly. Shirabu placed a few crisp bills onto the pile.

Tendou clapped the new wing spiker on the back. “As much as you want, Goshiki.”

When the grumpy manager came over to take their orders, he was blown away by the first year’s list of what he wanted, listing practically every item on the menu.

When it came Shirabu’s turn to order, he spouted off several items from the menu, significantly more than he usually got.

Kawanishi looked perturbed from his spot on the other side of Shirabu.

When the waiter brought out their food, Shirabu felt just a little sickened. Between what he and Goshiki had ordered alone, there was enough food on the table to feed the entire team plus some.

Kawanishi nudged Shirabu lightly under the table.

Shirabu pushed a plate of fries toward Kawanishi.

Almost immediately, Goshiki tucked into some of his food.

Shirabu pulled a couple pickles off of a cheeseburger.

“If you don’t want those pickles, I’m happy to take them,” Goshiki said around a mouthful of food.

Shirabu glared. “Don’t try to take other people’s food. You’ve got plenty of your own, don’t you think so?”

Goshiki shrugged. “Just asking.”

“And don’t talk with your mouth full.” Shirabu folded his arms. “It’s absolutely revolting—”

“Heyyy, Goshiki, what do you say we switch spots,” Tendou said, still smiling.

Goshiki blinked twice in confusion, but let Tendou slide in between him and Shirabu.

Long after Shirabu had given up trying to eat the three meals worth of food in front of him, Goshiki was still shoving food into his mouth at maximum velocity.

The first year reached around Tendou and pointed at an untouched burger in front of Shirabu. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Obviously.” Shirabu glared. “Why would I have bought it if I wasn’t going to eat it.”

Goshiki shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask. You seem like you’re slowing down.”

Shirabu picked up the burger. “Oh I’m just getting my second wind, I’ll have you know.” Shirabu thought he was gonna puke as he shoved the burger into his mouth.

“Allllright, it’s getting pretty late, don’t you guys think? If we want to hit the ice cream shop, we should leave soon,” Reon spoke up.

Goshiki’s face lit up once again. “Ice cream!?”

Shirabu was thankful for the distraction and subtly spat the unwanted bite of cheeseburger into a napkin.

 

When they arrived at the ice cream shop, Goshiki came up behind Shirabu. “What do you usually get here, Shirabu?”

“I get vanilla bean ice cream with caramel on top.”

Goshiki smiled broadly. “That sounds so good!”

As delicious as it was, the last thing Shirabu wanted was more food. Regardless, couldn’t show weakness any more than he already had and he stepped into the line.

Shirabu gingerly licked at his ice cream and looked around the shop.

Ushijima was lecturing Tendou about the outrageous amount of sprinkles, chocolate sauce, and candy pieces that filled the bowl of chocolate ice cream in Tendou’s hands to overflowing.

Normally Shirabu would’ve laughed slightly, but he felt that if he opened his mouth more than what was necessary to stick his tongue out to poke at his cone, he would probably throw up.

Shirabu turned the other way to see Reon and Yamagata standing on either side of Goshiki who was beaming brighter than the sun. In his hands was a large bowl with five scoops of ice cream. The top scoop was vanilla bean, caramel sauce drizzled over it.

“Look!” Goshiki said happily, showing Shirabu.

Shirabu nodded with feigned enthusiasm. “Look at that,” he mumbled.

By the time the group got back to the school, Shirabu had managed to finish his ice cream though he wasn’t particularly happy about it.

Reaching the dorm room, Shirabu headed in first, Kawanishi pausing in the doorway.

“Please step outside and close the door,” Shirabu grunted.

“Are you going to puke?”

“I’m going to puke.”

“I’ll... be elsewhere...”

Shirabu locked himself in the bathroom and leaned against the toilet feeling gross for almost an hour, but nothing coming up. Eventually he just relented and laid down, hoping he’d feel better when he woke up.

Before Shirabu had the chance to fall asleep, Kawanishi stepped back into the room.

“Are you sleeping?” Kawanishi whispered.

“No,” Shirabu grumbled.

“Feeling any better?”

“No.”

Kawanishi giggled slightly. “Semi owes me...”

Shirabu moaned. “No, you did NOT go over there.”

Kawanishi flopped onto his bed. “I did. And we made a bet. Semi predicted you’d throw up and feel fine afterwards. Tendou said you wouldn’t puke and just be miserable. I thought you would throw up and still feel like shit.”  
Shirabu buried his face in his pillow. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but Tendou wins this time.”

Kawanishi made a face and pulled out his phone.

“Don’t text them,” Shirabu grunted.

“I’m texting them.”

Within a few seconds, Shirabu’s own phone vibrated from beside his bed.

The text from Tendou read “Sweet dreams Shirabubu. Maybe you’ll be able to out-eat Goshiki next time. Practice makes perfect!”

Shirabu clenched his teeth and threw his phone into his backpack.

 

The Interhigh tournament was fast approaching yet again. The team of regulars spent infinitely long hours in the gym after practice every day, honing their skills and their cohesiveness with each other. Shirabu was learning how to tolerate Goshiki, at least while they were playing. The only thing that really ticked him off was when Goshiki decided to act all entitled.

“Shirabu, I feel like you’re not tossing to me ever! I want to hit spikes too and I can’t be a part of this team if you won’t toss to me!”

“I’m not not tossing to you. I’m tossing to the ace. Which is what I do.”

Goshiki would get all irritated though Shirabu couldn’t picture the enthusiastic kid ever actually acting aggressively. Shirabu was always ready though. If this punk first year thought he was better than Shirabu, he’d be taught a lesson in respect.

Thankfully Tendou had become the mediator between them, always seeming to appear in between them before things got too heated.

 

However, as disagreeable as Shirabu could find Goshiki, the first year was a good wing spiker. The first few games of Interhigh passed without incident, finishing with Shiratorizawa in the lead overwhelmingly.

Semi got put into the third match as a pinch server. All tension that had been knotting up inside Shirabu dissolved instantly.

“Focus, Shirabu,” Semi told him quietly.

Shirabu nodded and threw himself into the most intense mode he had, the tosses he sent toward Ushijima some of the most solid he’d ever set. As he found, it was even more exciting to be on the court alongside Semi than to switch out with him in the middle of the game.

When they set foot on the court at nationals yet again, the feeling of failure from the previous year stuck with them. They exceeded their former seventh place title, kept going past fifth place. They were finally stopped at third place. In the nation.

The entire team celebrated with food after returning home. Shirabu wished a little bit that the regulars could’ve gone out by themselves again, but it was a lot of fun to be with everyone, not just the people he was always with anyway. Even Washijou seemed less annoyed than usual and allowed them to chat and mess around freely for the night.

**\-----**

The next day they were back at it, improving everything that could possibly be improved. A couple of the third years that weren’t regulars or backups quit to focus on studies, but the remaining team members worked harder than ever to perfect every move so they couldn’t possibly lose practice matches or real matches.

 

The regulars were all in the locker room, but otherwise everyone else had already gone back to their dorms for the night.

Tendou had managed to steal Semi’s t-shirt and had climbed on top of the sink, holding it out of reach and trying to kick Semi away.

The middle blocker tossed the wad of fabric on top of some lockers.

Semi swore loudly and jumped to try to grab for it while Tendou giggled and hopped off the counter. “Out of luck, Eita!”

“Tendou Satori you better prepare yourself for death,” Semi mumbled, still trying to reach his shirt.

“Oh! I can get it!” Goshiki exclaimed, running over. He jumped, grabbed hold of the edge of the locker and easily pulled himself up. The spiker snatched the shirt and hopped back down to the ground.

Semi laughed and high fived him. “That’s impressive, man. You’re not on this team for nothing, are you.”

Goshiki beamed.

Shirabu silently stuffed his belongings into his backpack. He’d never tried to do a pull-up before, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to if he tried.

Goshiki went back to his own locker, Ushijima bade them all farewell and started for the door. Tendou leapt after him, already running his mouth about some show he’d started watching. Yamagata followed after them, having watched a few episodes of it himself.

In seconds everyone had started to leave.

Goshiki fell into step beside Shirabu, yawning loudly. “Man, that was a tough practice, I’m pooped!”

“Yeah,” Shirabu said.

“I’m going straight to bed.”

“What, not going to the gym?” Shirabu muttered under his breath.

Apparently Goshiki had picked up his words after all. “I don’t really... go to the gym much. Do you?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “Listen, you little bowl cut, if you work out, great, I don’t care, just stop bragging about it.”

Goshiki took a step away from Shirabu and stopped walking, hurt filling his eyes. “I don’t.... I don’t brag!”

“Oh, like hell!” Shirabu kicked a small, empty trash can, sending it clattering across the ground.

Goshiki looked scared and took a few steps backwards, stumbling slightly and catching himself on a wall. He slowly lowered himself the rest of the way to the ground, gazing up at Shirabu nervously.

Shirabu’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had come and he took a step toward Goshiki, outstretching a hand to help his kouhai to his feet.

Out of nowhere, hands reached around him and grabbed his wrists roughly, yanking him backwards.

Tendou was pulling Goshiki to his feet. Shirabu looked over his shoulder to find Semi glaring at him, fingernails digging into Shirabu’s forearms. Kawanishi had inserted himself between Shirabu and Goshiki, staring cautiously at his roommate.

“Woah, I wasn’t trying to hurt him or anything!” Shirabu struggled out of Semi’s grasp.

“He wasn’t,” Goshiki confirmed, “he was going to help me up.”

Semi smacked the back of Shirabu’s head. “Calm down, dumbass.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to do anything. Promise.”

Semi studied Shirabu’s gaze for a second. “Come back to our room for a second.”

Tendou started to walk with Goshiki to the first years’ hallway. “Don’t worry, Goshiki, Shirabu just gets a little fired up sometimes, you didn’t do anything.”

Shirabu relented and walked silent next to Semi and Kawanishi to the third year hall.

Semi flopped onto his bed, Kawanishi leaned against the wall, and Shirabu perched nervously on the desk chair.

Neither of them said anything until Tendou walked in a minute later.

“Is he okay?” Semi asked dully.

“Yep, just scared that it was something he did.”

“What’s going on between you and Goshiki, Shirabu. I don’t like this and I’m sure Tendou’s tired of breaking up your fights every nine minutes,” Semi said.

“It’s really nothing... Just stupid jealousy really. I don’t know why I’m letting it get to me like this.”

“What are you jealous about. He's not going to take your spot.”

“He's better than me. At everything.”

“What.”

“You guys don't understand, but compared to me he's huge. He's muscular and tall and outgoing. He's everything I'm not.”

“When did not being super buff bother you before?” Tendou sat down backwards in his chair.

“I... don’t know. It never used to bother me, it just feels like competition and I don’t like it.”

“You’ve never gotten bitter at me for being taller than you,” Kawanishi spoke up.

Shirabu wrinkled his nose slightly. “Yeah no offense but you’re just sorta... lanky.”

Kawanishi rolled his eyes, the faintest of smiles crossing his face while Tendou laughed.

“Also since Goshiki’s a year younger, but he’s already a regular.”

“Hey, you had some serious competition, you know,” Semi said.

Shirabu grinned slightly. “I know. I don’t know why I’m bothered by him, its just dumb, really.”

“None of us see him as better than you in any way, you know that, right?”

“...Thank you. I’m going to go apologize to him.”

The others smiled as Shirabu stood up and rushed out of the room to the first year hall. He knocked hesitantly on the door of Goshiki’s room. Goshiki hesitantly opened the door.

“Hey...” Shirabu rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry for earlier, I said things I shouldn’t have, got mad over something dumb. Are we chill?”

Goshiki grinned broadly. “We’re chill.”

Shirabu smiled slightly when the first year grabbed his arm. “Hey maybe you could help me with serves sometime! I can get a lot of power behind them but yours are really accurate, maybe you could give me some tips!!”

“Oh hell no, you’re not allowed to be strong _and_ accurate. You get one.”

Goshiki laughed and released Shirabu. “I just want us to be the strongest team that we possibly can be this year! I want us to win nationals at the spring high!”

“Me too.” Shirabu smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Goshiki.”

“Bye Shirabu, thank you!”

 

There was an air of confidence about the whole team as they stepped onto the court once again. Making it up to third place the previous tournament left them proud this time around. They had a lot of honor at stake for this tournament and they wanted to take their crowd on a journey again. The talk going around is that they were going to take nationals this year.

None of the first few teams they faced were an issue. Walking into the match against Karasuno, they were adequately warned. The rising team was out to win and had already taken down Aoba Jousai. If they were going to meet resistance on their road to nationals, it would come from Karasuno.

Nothing was different. They played exactly the way they always did, executing flawless plays exactly how they practiced. Everything was smooth, seamless like it always was, so why did they still take the second set?

Shirabu felt his resolve starting to fray. He needed to have more control in this game, a wildcard play that would—

The number 10 card went up on the sideline.

Shirabu hadn’t realized how quickly his heart had been beating until he stopped moving and stepped toward the sideline.

“Cool yourself off,” Semi’s voice was low as he handed the card over. “You’re stressed. Just breathe.”

As the senior took his place, Shirabu felt the tension flood out of him. He felt strong again, leaving the game in Semi’s hands. There wasn’t even any remorse that he’d been the one to be taken out. It was the best option they had.

Shirabu screamed at Semi’s first serve, a no-touch service ace.

Karasuno called a time-out and Shirabu couldn’t help feel the unease ripple through the group. They couldn’t let this change the direction of the match.

Semi’s next serve was picked up and eventually fell back onto their side of the court.

Exchanging places again, Shirabu high-fived Semi.

Semi grabbed his hand, and made him stop for a second. “Are you calm?”

Shirabu nodded earnestly.

Semi grinned slightly. “Good. Then go get ‘em. This is why you’re our setter, not me.”

Shirabu smiled. “But, Semi, you’re—

The pinch server squeezed Shirabu’s hand a little harder. “Keep going. Don’t stop,” Semi said quietly.

“Got it.” Shirabu nodded.

“Don’t let them get to you, you’re the better setter, we’re the better team.”

Shirabu stood a little straighter. “I’m well aware.”

Semi grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

“We’re the better team,” Shirabu whispered to himself as he got back into position. “We’re the better team.”

 

100 practice serves later, everyone began to trudge back to their rooms. This was not the expectation. There was no way they could’ve lost like this. But they had. And Shirabu watched sullenly as the teenagers pushed through the doors.

“Are we going to the diner?” Shirabu called after his teammates as they started out the gym.

“Shirabu, we’re all pretty tired...” Reon sighed.

Shirabu stomped his foot loudly and bit his lip. “I think it’s more important.”

A few others turned and stopped walking.

The corners of Yamagata’s lips quirked up. “I’m starving anyway. Why not.”

Tendou grinned mischievously. “We can’t make that restaurant manager’s life too easy tonight.”

Semi’s shoulders visibly lost tension. “One more night as a team.”

 

As they filed into the diner, much quieter than normal, Shirabu could tell his team was still upset. Obviously they had a right to be, but Shirabu wanted to do something to make it better.

Shirabu poked a few good-natured insults at his teammates as they started eating and within a few moments, the others caught on. The banter was quieter and not quite as destructive as most nights, but Shirabu was just happy to get people smiling again.

The group walked over to the ice cream shop on autopilot, each ordering what they usually got.

The spring night was crisp, but it was a comfortable cold, a cozy chill and the eight players all sat on the hill like they did, leaning against each other for warmth.

“I think this has been the best tournament yet,” Shirabu said quietly.

Semi looked over from next to Shirabu. “I hope you’re going somewhere with this...”

Shirabu smiled and looked at thee ice cream cone in his hands, licked at a drop of vanilla that was threatening to spill onto his hand. “I think... I think that people always say ‘It’s not all about winning’ and we all agree to that, but I think we still forget. I think we forget about what we gain on the way to victory or loss. This team is my family and this right here is all I need.”

Goshiki looked up at Shirabu with tears in his eyes. “I won’t let you down next year, Shirabu.”

“Goshiki, you’ve never let me down in your life.”

Yamagata slapped the crying first year’s back. “Kid, you make my life easy. Your spikes don’t get blocked so I don’t have to run after everything. The next libero will be a lucky one.”

Shirabu smiled at Yamagata. “Thank you for being the glue holding this team together, Yamagata.”

The libero looked mildly shocked.

Reon chimed in. “Even when the rest of us are ready to give up, you keep us moving. There’s no way we could even be as good as we are without you.”

Shirabu touched Reon’s arm lightly. “But when we need support, on the court and off, there’s no one better than you, Reon. When we doubt others or ourselves, you’re there to make sure we don’t lose faith.”

“Reon, you know better than anyone how much I doubted myself this year,” Semi chimed in. “The reason I’m still playing, the reason I’m here with all of you guys right here right now, is you.”

“Semi, I... didn’t want to take your spot,” Shirabu stared into Semi’s eyes. “I mean I did, but not after the system we had last year. That was my idea of perfection, but I’m realizing it was necessary for the both of us to grow from that.”

Kawanishi crossed his legs in front of him. “Semi, I still like your tosses better than Shirabu’s.”

Semi grinned. “Thanks, Kawanishi. You’re my favorite second year.”

“Hey!” Shirabu snapped.

Semi nudged Shirabu lightly. “Find some chill. Then we’ll talk.”

“Good luck,” Kawanishi commented. “He definitely doesn’t have any.”

Shirabu grinned at his roommate. “Chill or no chill, you’ve put up with me for the past two years like a champ and you’ve helped me to do my best all the time.”

“My turn,” Tendou butted in, resting his chin on Kawanishi’s shoulder, “Kawanishi, you’re the heir to my throne. You’re definitely qualified, just try to teach the next middle blocker in line everything I taught you and you’ll do just fine. Oh and you still owe me from that one bet about putting a gecko in Shirabu’s underwear drawer--”

“ANYWAY.” Shirabu cleared his throat. “Tendou, you’ve kept us all impossibly sane the past few years. You’ve definitely stopped me from punching Goshiki a few times.”

“What did I do?” Goshiki asked.

Shirabu ignored him. “You keep this place fun and... I’ll try not to let it get too miserable when you leave.”

“I concur,” Ushijima said. “You are very good at keeping the mood light, Satori. You’ve reminded all of us that it’s okay to have a good time while working hard. Especially me.”

Tendou beamed.

Shirabu rested his chin on his hand. “Ushijima, you’re the reason I’m here. I saw you play in middle school and I knew I had to come here. I knew I had to stand on the court with you.”

“I am honored to have gotten this time with you, Shirabu. And you will be a great captain next year.”

Shirabu froze.

Ushijima smiled slightly at his setter. “I was going to wait until it was time to formally announce it but...”

“...oh.”

“I trust you accept this position.”

“Yeah,” Shirabu breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it all the way through this THANK YOU FOR READING. This... was only supposed to be about 4k :'D Shirabu is such an underappreciated character in my opinion and I need the world to know!! How amazing!! He is!!!!! (disclaimer: I know I injure Shirabu a lot...... I promise I don't hate him, he's my absolute favorite.)
> 
>  
> 
> Big ups to [Lity](http://starlity.tumblr.com) for beta reading and SCREAMING FOR ETERNITY WITH ME! You've been such a huge source of support for me and my writing!
> 
> Even bigger ups to [Kat](http://tendouaf.tumblr.com). You've been with me on this since day one and have provided so much insight and inspiration. I never would've been able to accomplish this without your never-ending support and eagerness to yell about our Shiratoribabies!!! Through this journey you've made me laugh until I cried and cry until I somehow ended up laughing anyway?? but fo realio. You mean the world to me and this was possible because of YOU. Thank you for everything <3


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